


putting the dog to sleep.

by carnalhouse, neotheatre (carnalhouse)



Series: call it dreaming. [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Aromantic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Aromantic Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Autistic Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Autistic Tim Stoker, M/M, Martin Blackwood Has ADHD, Martin Blackwood is on the Aromantic Spectrum, Multi, They/Them Pronouns for Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, Trans Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), au where tim is. alive! and he and jon live together and sometimes martin stays the night, he's got trauma, if you are mean to me at all on this one ill cry folks!, jon & tim are in a qpr, this is mostly a coping fic don't come for my heavy projecting, tims got issues, welcome to my sick and twisted mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:29:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29600397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnalhouse/pseuds/carnalhouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnalhouse/pseuds/neotheatre
Summary: tim still hears things. he still has bad days, but sometimes they can be salvaged.
Relationships: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist/Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Series: call it dreaming. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2174691
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	putting the dog to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> hey bestie welcome to my sick and twisted mind where every single night i write a fic about tim to cope. also if you try and tell me that me saying they're all nd arospec & trans isn't realistic ill probably cry a lot thanks. anyways *hands you more implied jontim qpr content* have fun. also don't take tim being only in boxers as anything in the plane of sexual i can and will cry.
> 
> tws for talk about hallucinations & trauma talk.

sometimes tim still hears it's voice, and the screams, and the crackling of fire while his ears ring. 

he knows they're hallucinations, a reminder of a past gone wrong (that could've gone worse.) 

the ringing isn't though, it's constant some after effect of being so close to a loud noise. also constants are the ache in his back, the scars he can feel littering his body anytime he just exists. 

currently though, tim is lying on his stomach in his bed, no blankets and only wearing boxers. the ACs all the way down, leaving him to shiver but he couldn't handle any sort of warmth right now. he thinks it might melt him (completely this time.) 

that's not what makes it a bad day. it isn't the way he can't wear his binder anymore, or the ache that he can feel deep in his bones, or even the fact that he's cold. 

it's the muffled pounding of his skull, the emptiness and uncomfortably full feeling that his brain is surrounded by, and most of all hot tears staining his pillow.

he shudders, still hearing it's lilting tone and teasing voice, almost singing as it mocks him, mocks his brother, mocks jon. he hates it. he knows it's not real but it makes it feel like he's back there, listening to the song that does not (and should not) exist. like it's still touching his face, holding him in a way that's almost tenderly and caring as one thinks a cow deserves better before sending it into the slaughterhouse. 

he almost considers throwing his pillow at it, but he doesn't want to risk losing the little comfort he's allowed to have while like this. he laughs, squeezing his eyes shut so tight he can see color.

he knows it isn't real. he knows it isn't real. he knows it isn't real.

it doesn't make it feel any less haunting.

tim never actually believed in ghosts, not the spectral, phantom ones anyways, but he thinks now maybe he knows what ghosts really are. the echoes in your skull, the visions burned into your eyes that always come back once you close them or try to sleep. 

and by those standards, he's being haunted.

it's the only way he can put it. the fire, the voice, the screams. they're his own personal ghosts. how fun.

he barely even hears it when jon comes back to the apartment, only catching the end of them calling his name. he knows they're worried, knows he should get up, knows he should play it off like he hasn't been listening to every word it's said into his ears for the past, hours? minutes? it could've been days for all he knows. 

but he can't. so he lays there, barely even crying anymore (just a sniffle), and waits until he hears the door creak open and soft, padding footsteps to his bedside. 

they don't pity him, tim knows that. they sympathize, they know what happened, jon knows everything down to the last detail (and not because of their demi-god type bullshit powers.)

he knows it isn't pity he catches in their eyes, but for any reason it makes the knot in his chest get tighter. 

"hey."

they nod, eyes blanking out for a split second and returning the greeting (in their own way.)

"would you like a cup of tea?"

they know he won't drink it. he knows he won't drink it. he says yes anyways. any reprieve from having to stay by himself is a welcome reprieve. 

he peels himself from the sheets, not missing the way jon seems to fold in on themself for warmth, and ignoring the way they practically scurry to the thermostat to turn it up as they leave the room.

he doesn't bother putting pants on, knowing the process of bending down, going up, bending down, too many times will suck away the energy that he barely has enough of to make it to the couch and sit down. he ignores the pain in his back and instead focuses on the sound of jon in the kitchen behind him.

the click of the stove and clashing of the kettle on the metal stovetop keep him grounded, the almost humming coming from jon as they tap their foot and flex their knuckles (flex, unflex, flex, unflex, flex, unflex, and so on and so forth.)

he lets out a breath that he didn't realize he had been holding, knowing he was safe, that it really wasn't real. he could still hear it, but it was easier to listen to jon and the few details they'd decided to share about their day. tim had called in sick, knowing it didn't even matter if he did or not, it was about the principle of it.

he doesn't think about it as jon sets out a third cup. martin must be coming over. he grabs his, mentally noting how jon sits on the other side of the couch and not next to him, it must've been a not-too-great day for them too.

they sit in comfortable silence, tim just holding his mug even as the pads of his fingers get red, and he thinks he should set it down so he can use his hands tomorrow (he doesn't), and jon drinking theirs silently, downing half of it like nothing. tim winces at that, but knows they've long since mastered drinking burning tea.

he turns his head when he hears whistling and the tell tale jingle of keys and the lock turning. his heart almost stops. 

(they aren't here, they didn't survive, the moving men, the harbingers, the omen of something so much worse to come, they don't have keys to their apartment and they aren't the 6'3" man with half blond and half brown hair that's standing in their doorway with wide eyes as he takes in everything happening and realizes not everyone's had the best day.)

tim offers a smile, not the best, but still a smile nonetheless, and he feels his heart melt a little more at the beaming grin he gets in response. but not the painful melting he fears, a comfortable warmth that he's ok with that's been coming in waves since jon sat with him.

words aren't needed as martin pours his own drink, sitting in the recliner next to tims side of the couch, the only sounds exchanged martins whistling & the tap tap tap of jons fingernails against the ceramic of their mug.

tim relaxes a bit more, the stiffness leaving him, and thinks that maybe the day isn't all bad, and maybe (even if none of them really watch them anyways) they can watch some movie tonight.

he smiles again, not the best, but still a smile and thinks this is the best he could've hoped for. 

and he's glad the past didn't turn out worse.


End file.
